Where There Had Once Been Warmth
by Written Parody
Summary: The end of the hundred year war brought with it violent uprisings from all the nations. The gaang is tasked with quelling them and bringing true peace to the world. And then Zuko goes off to face one group alone and everything goes wrong. Zutara angst.


**AU: **Firstly I need to apologize, because I'm breaking half a promise I made. On my last fic I promised that the next one I posted would be longer and lighter than it was. This fic is longer, but it isn't lighter. In fact, it may actually be worse. So those looking for a fluffy-aww-fic turn around now.

I'm stunned to say this, but I've reached 500 reviews. Thank you so, so very much to every single person who has taken the time to review. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. Now because Maverick48 was the person to give me my 500th review my writing skills (or lack thereof) were under her command. I was smiling as soon as I saw it was her who won the oneshot, because her and I have pretty much the same likes in fics. Then I got her request and I got even happier. I was grinning until the last line: "…I wouldn't mind if he died." That was where the only problem came in. Because me killing Zuzu… It didn't gel in my head.

Anyway, I hope somebody enjoys this. Maverick48 if this doesn't meet your requirements PLEASE say so I can change it: I want it to be as good as it possibly can be. Don't be afraid to speak out.

Reviews are still loved immensely.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any related material.

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**Where There Had Once Been Warmth**

Agony. It was in everything he did. It was in every breath he forced his battered body to take, in every twitch of a muscle, in every labored heartbeat. He couldn't tell what hurt the most anymore; all the pain just folded into one huge monster that threatened to crush him. In his mouth he could taste his own blood, and he knew from the stickiness of his hands that he was losing the precious red liquid in other places. The air seemed a hundred times heavier than it ever had been: it was an arduous effort to drag in each lungful of air. And even when the effort was made it didn't seem enough: there was never any relief. Under the pain and stupor there was a shimmer of another emotion. Fear. It was growing by the second, though, as the pain and helplessness multiplied to previously unthinkable heights. And in some ways, the fear was worse than the pain itself. He didn't want to die that way. He didn't want to be alone and unaware, pinned down by unknown objects and victim to his own body without knowing why. He wanted someone to clear his eyes so he could see the world one last time before he left. He wanted someone to remind him who and where he was so that in his final seconds he'd know what had taken his life. He wanted to know if he'd made an impact on the world.

The fear started suffocating him, making breathing even harder than before. He tried to take deeper breaths but they would not come. The taste in his mouth made him want to gag, but he had no strength to even wipe his eyes. Unconsciousness was creeping over him steadily, dragging him into darkness he was sure he would never break free of. He fought it; he didn't want to die in fear. There was no need to be afraid, his tired mind soothed him. None of the others were afraid. In fact, they had all been relieved when he'd left. Some of the worry lines had melted from their faces. They were confident, now, that they could stop the riot without loss. Why? Why had they suddenly not been afraid anymore? Oh, that was right. It was because Firelord Zuko had arrived. They were confident of his presence, of his skill and surety. Now that he was around, everything would be alright. There was nothing to be afraid of, because Zuko was there now. Truth trickled in slowly, like water out of a tiny hole accidentally pricked in a skin.

Oh. He was Zuko. And everything was far from alright.

-x-x-x-

The ground was dusty beneath her feet, creating clouds around her as she walked. She ignored the dirt that was clinging to her dress, though; it did not matter. The silence in the twilight air around her was frightening instead of calming. Where were the sounds of fighting, of arguments and cries for peace? Zuko was good but even he wouldn't have been able to stop the riot that quickly. Again she chastised herself for not leaving with him. There had been people to heal, true, but none of their injuries were life threatening. And Zuko was going to try and negotiate with the people who had started the riot. Wild, angry people who had proved already that they did not shy from violence.

She wanted to call for him, hear his reassuring answer and ease the fear that had been gnawing in her gut almost since he had left. But somehow she could not get her mouth to work. She looked desperately across the flat, barren land that had once been farms and sighed, finding nothing but coarse shrubbery. Then she turned towards the mountains and continued on her search, thinking of the caves set in the vast rock and wondering if her companion was waiting there. She pushed aside a row of tangled bushes and saw something that made her freeze. A puddle of unmistakable red liquid lay at her feet, dark in the light of the setting sun. Her mouth suddenly dry, she glanced around her. Her heart nearly stopped.

His name tore from her lips without her realizing, and as she ran to him she kept calling him, as though making up for the time she had kept silent thus far. She was used to seeing him in red, but the sight that met her wide blue eyes then made her sick. There was blood almost everywhere, pooling on his clothes and on the ground next to him like it was leaking from the earth. She fervently prayed that not all of it was his, but deep down she knew it was.

Kneeling beside him she placed her hands on his cheeks at once. The difference between their skin tones was even more startling now that he was paler than the moon itself. She swallowed harshly and called him again, wishing he would open his lids so she could see his burning gold eyes and be assured again. But he didn't stir and she was left in fear and anguish. Gritting her teeth she pulled herself together and looked down to assess the damage. Zuko's body was pierced with five arrows. Two were in his side, one in his abdomen, one in his left shoulder and the last in his right thigh. They were buried in deep, and Katara could only imagine how much they must hurt.

Sitting back on her haunches she readied her waterskin and then grasped the end of one of the arrows firmly. Using her knee to hold Zuko's body down she pulled on the arrow with all her strength. It didn't budge and too late she realized it must be barbed. A strangled noise escaped the Firelord's lips, and she apologized over and over, tears beginning to form.

After taking a few deep breaths she bent low so that her face was next to his. "Zuko." Her voice was a whisper. "I know you can't answer so just listen. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But they have to come out. Okay? They have to come out."

She touched her forehead to his briefly and then straightened up, rubbing her cheeks dry. Resolutely she went back to her previous position, determined this time to get the arrow out. It was tough work, aided by the fact that the arrowhead had many little barbs on it that she could not foresee or ignore. She had never heard Zuko scream before then, and the sound tore through her every fibre, even though the Firebender's voice was weak and hoarse. She was crying again by the time the first arrow had been removed, and she used her tears as extra water to heal the wound the arrow had left behind. All the while she apologized, her voice shaking with her unshed tears.

The second one was worse, somehow. Zuko's voice was weaker, but it seemed to cut deeper into her soul. She could barely see what she was doing through her tears, but she knew she had to carry on. They had to come out. Or else he would die. To Zuko it felt as though the matchless pain became even greater. He could feel his skin tearing under her hands every time she pulled even an inch. He couldn't stop the sounds that were tearing from his throat and his lungs burned for relief that never came. It was being burned all over again, except slower, drawn out. He was being sliced open, kept from the darkness by the ripping of his flesh little by little by little.

"Please!" Somehow he managed to gasp the words out. "Please!"

He wasn't begging her to hurry, to save him quicker, to give him more chance to fight. He was begging her to stop, to let him go, to just let it all end so that the pain and fear and tearing would stop. She understood his words as soon as he said them, and her throat constricted even more.

"No!" she growled back, crying almost in earnest now. "No way! You are going to live! You are! I'm going to make you!"

Her words seeped into his brain and somehow he was able to picture her eyes as she said it. He could see the way they would ice over, turn to glaciers with a core of fire. He wished he could open his eyes to really see them, to be pierced by them one last time. But the memory of them would have to be enough. And somehow it was. The agony continued, his flesh was still ripped, the air still refused to enter his lungs without so much effort it was almost laughable. But he fought it with her, just like she wanted him to. Because really, he'd always been willing to face any amount of pain for her.

Finally the last shard was pulled from him, and she healed his last wound as best she could. Then she tore strips off of her dress and used them to bandage him. Her touch was soft and tender, and he reveled in it. When she was done she let the last of her composure slip and she folded at his side, tears pouring down her cheeks. With shaking fingers she stroked his hair back and whispered his name, longing for him to open his eyes and sit up as if nothing was wrong. He tried to say her name, tried to tell her it was alright and so many other things, but nothing more than a groan came. She shushed him, her hand on his head, telling him it would all be okay with a hitch in her voice that gave away the lie. His pathetic attempts to clean his eyes finally made her notice them, and she washed the dried blood away for him.

Finally he was able to force the lids open. The sky above him was a mixture of the most beautiful purples and grays he had ever seen. He stared at the awesome sight for a long while before turning to look at her. Her face was dirty from the dust, her tears leaving trails down her face. And yet somehow she still looked beautiful. She smiled a small smile for him sending reassurance into the deepest parts of his body. He used all his strength to tug her towards him. She obeyed his unspoken request and lay beside him, looking up at the appearing stars just as he was.

She noticed his fever before he did, and the pain he saw in her eyes rivaled his earlier torture. Gently, oh so gently, she tore off another bit of her dress and bathed it in water before applying it to his burning, sweaty forehead. Her fingers lingered above the left side of his face, and they were both transported back to a place that was fueled by green light and shadowed with betrayal and misery. She gave him some of her precious water to drink, and it was the most glorious thing he'd ever tasted. The water gave him some strength, and he used it.

"Ka…tara?" She leant in close, her face almost blank because of all the warring emotions. "Tell… Uncle… he's… my father. And Toph… I love her. Aang… Great kid…"

"You tell them yourself," she cut across him, eyes and voice hard, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again. "You tell them yourself!"

He wanted to comfort her by brushing away her tears, but the most he could do was make his fingers twitch. She noticed and threaded her hand into his, squeezing tightly and swallowing against her despair. She looked at the hand grasped firmly in hers and held on to it as though it was a rock. Where there had once been warmth there was now only clamminess caused by his fever. The tiniest of tugs from Zuko made her lie back down beside him. This time she rested her head on his uninjured shoulder, reassured by his breathing and the thudding of his heart in her ear.

A sudden desire to keep him with her had her asking him, "What are you going to do when you're healed from this?"

There was silence for a long while, and she began to think he'd slipped under. Then he took a shuddering breath and replied. "If I-"

"Not if. When. _When _you get healed."

He didn't correct her; just continued. "I'm… going to… kiss… a girl… I rea…lly like."

"A girl that isn't Mai?" She felt him shake his head ever so slightly, and a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "What happens if she doesn't like you in that way?"

"You"- somehow his weak panting still sounded accusing-"turned me… into… an op…timist…"

A shiver of laughter passed through her, and his hand tightened its grip on hers. Slowly she raised her head so she could look him in the eyes. Somehow it seemed very, very important to do it. As soon as her eyes reached his, however, she wished she hadn't looked. Her two favourite, mismatched points of gold were fading. Where there had once been warmth there was now dullness. A stony tint caused by the fever and the pain. It made her start crying again, and he made her lower her head by pulling her hand very gently. She sobbed as they lay in silence, staring at the million points of light above them.

"Love Uncle… Toph… all… you…" It was a sudden outburst, and she flinched at the wrongness of his voice.

"I know. We all love you too. Which is why you're not going to leave us." She hadn't cried so much in ages. "They're going to find us soon and then it's going to be okay."

"Love… you…"

"I know."

"No… I…m…mea…"

She tightened her grip on his hand, turned her face an inch and kissed the flesh of his shoulder. "I know. Me too."

The sounds of the nightlife started getting louder around them, but they did not scare her. She felt nothing except numbness and hope. The rest of the gaang was going to come soon. Soon. She'd healed Zuko to the best of her abilities. It was going to be okay. In the sky she was able to find several constellations Zuko had taught her about. She pointed them out to him and could feel his soft pride radiating towards her.

"Tell… me… story… Wat…er… Tribe…."

She told him the stories Gran Gran had told them when the long winters kept them inside their huts. She told him of the beautiful spirits, and the silly Waterbenders who did not heed warnings. But mostly she told him stories of brave people, taking a bit of courage from each tale and placing it in his heart as well as her own. Her words mixed with the night air and the howling of a distant wolfbat. And everything was tranquil as well as incredibly sad.

The gaang found them by the light of Aang's torch late in the evening. Both had their eyes closed, and Katara still had her head on Zuko's shoulder. Her hand was curled over his heart, resting there like a guardian. Protecting the place where there had once been warmth.

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**AN: **Never, ever, ever killing Zuko again. I'm almost crying, and it's my own bliddy story. Sorry, Zuzu. I still love you irrevocably.


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